


Shall we walk?

by Mytrice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kid Sherlock, Kidlock, M/M, Mycroft's Umbrella, Redbeard - Freeform, Teen Lestrade, Teen Mycroft, Teen!strade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytrice/pseuds/Mytrice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Greg invites his boyfriend to his eighteenth birthday party he knows things might not necessarily go to plan but  his plans for a nice evening among friends soon go awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shall we walk?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QED221B](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=QED221B).



> This was written for QED221B of tumblr as part of The Winter Mystrade gift exchange.

Mycroft subconsciously straightened the lapels on his coat.  He’d stood at the front door of Lestrade’s house more times than he cared to remember but he’d never felt as nervous as he did now, well apart from the first time he’d stood there. He could hear laughter and the faint but steady thump of music coming from inside. Mycroft had only met Gregory’s school friends once before and it hadn’t ended well.  His daydream was interrupted by the sound of the door being pulled open.

“Hi, Myc. Come in.” Greg stood aside as Mycroft stepped over the threshold who smiled at Greg affectionately before leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Anderson and Donovan are already here.” Said Greg, breaking the kiss to take Mycroft’s coat and umbrella.

“Oh, are they?” Mycroft fought the urge to reply with a bitter remark. He despised both Anderson and Donovan in equal amounts and didn’t understand why Greg still shared his company with them. He was aware they constantly ridiculed Greg for having a ‘posh twat’ for a boyfriend. Although. Mycroft had to admit that the twat part mainly came from his own actions but they had been unavoidable at the time.

“Yeah.” Hearing the slight edge to Mycroft’s voice Greg raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mind that I invited them too do you? It’s just that I went to Anderson’s eighteenth and I’ve been invited to Donovan’s so I could hardly refuse to invite them.”

It took Mycroft sometime to arrange his expression into one that was more amicable. “No, I don’t mind. It’s your party after all, Gregory.”

Choosing to ignore the fact he knew Mycroft blatantly lying, Greg lead him into the living room to sit with the other guests where he small immediately met by a scowl from Donovan and an eye roll from Anderson. “Good evening.” Said Mycroft sitting down on the sofa that he’d worked out Greg had been sitting on before.

Before either Anderson or Donovan could say something back Greg hurriedly offered Mycroft a drink while glaring at his school friends.

“Yes please. Do you have any whiskey?”

Greg could feel himself blushing as Donovan sniggered behind him. “Well we’ve got Jack Daniels but I doubt you’ll want that neat. I’ll have a look at what my dad has. I doubt he’ll mind.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft smiled warmly at Greg as he walked out of the room. As soon as Greg was gone he waited for the jibes to begin.

“You too good for beer then, _Myc_?”  Donovan said raising her bottle in front of her.

Mycroft sighed deeply and turned to Sally. “I am not ‘too good’ for beer. I just don’t enjoy drinking it. I could say you weren’t good enough for single malt but then again you probably don’t enjoy the taste.” As Mycroft spoke he was aware of how pompous his tone was but it seemed that Greg’s friends brought out that side of him.

Just as Anderson was about to make a comeback Greg came in holding a shallow glass filled with amber liquid. “My dad drinks Talisker. I don’t know if that’s good or not but it’s the best I can do.”

“It’s fine, thank you.” Mycroft took it gratefully, he was glad to have something else to focus his attention on. It was ridiculously quiet in Lestrade’s house and considering that it was supposed to be his eighteenth birthday nothing much was happening.

“I wish we could have gone to the pub.” Anderson sat forward and pointedly glared across at Mycroft.

Lestrade shook his head and Mycroft heard him sigh quietly. “You know we can’t go to the pub, not with Mycroft anyway and I’m not risking getting caught. I need a clear record to get into the Police Academy.”

Mycroft understood now, he was the reason they were stuck bored in Lestrade’s living room while his mother cooked sausage rolls in the kitchen. That also explained why Anderson and Donovan were more annoyed with him than he expected.

Lestrade took a sip of his drink for courage before trying to start a conversation again. “How’s school going, Mycroft?” He asked with probably more interest than necessary.

“It’s fine. The Debating Society is going strong. We’ve won every Debate we’ve entered this year.” Mycroft tried to smile weakly at but he caught Donovan roll her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sally. Perhaps I should have asked what extracurricular activities you partake in.”

“Myc...” Greg said under his breath. Why did he even imagine for a moment that he could have had both Mycroft and Anderson and Donovan at his birthday? It clearly wasn’t working, he knew someone was going to storm out any minute but he wasn’t quite sure who. He tried to ignore the look that Sally gave him. It could only mean one thing: ‘What do you actually see in this posh twat?’

Mycroft ignored his boyfriend and stared levelly at Donovan while he waited for her to answer. When she kept quiet his lips spread into the smile that was more of a smirk that Greg hated. “Oh, so you aren’t part of any clubs or societies. I assumed you were in a rival debating society or something similar judging by your reaction but it would appear not.” Mycroft looked down to find that Greg had placed a hand on his leg but he was gripping slightly too tightly. Mycroft raised his eyebrows; it wasn’t his fault that Greg had chosen two insolent half-wits as school friends. He moved his hand to cover Greg’s before turning it over and lacing their fingers together.

Anderson chose to break the uncomfortable silence this time. “So when do you go back up to school, Mycroft?” The question seemed innocent enough but the malice in Anderson’s voice was clear enough.

“I have three days until I have to return to school and intend to spend as much time as I possibly can with Gregory.”

Anderson nodded. He appeared to be relieved that they only had to endure Mycroft being around for another three days until they wouldn’t have to see for another month and a half. “Well I hope you have fun before you go back. When will your brother go off to school with you?  He’s always running around the park with that dog of his, picking up woodlice _for science_. “

Mycroft had no idea why Anderson was talking about Sherlock but it certainly annoyed him. “I can’t comprehend how that matters to you. At least Sherlock has an interest in studying which is more than we can say for most people in this room.”

Donovan smirked. “God. You can’t bear anyone saying anything remotely negative about your brother, can you? I don’t know why, his social skills are even worse than yours. No wonder he has to kidnap and shove bugs in jars they’re the only friends he’s going to get.”

Mycroft searched desperately for a cutting remark, he felt his fists clench involuntarily. When no suitable remark came Mycroft let go of Greg’s hand and rose to his feet. Avoiding the gaze of Donovan and Anderson as he did so, Mycroft walked out into the hallway ignoring his boyfriend’s pleas for him to stay. He hated to admit it but he was almost relieved when Greg didn’t chase after him, he wasn’t sure what he would have said to him if he had.

Mycroft took his coat and umbrella from the peg that Greg’s mother had reserved for him the first time he’d visited and opened the front door but not before hearing conversation drifting through form the living room.

“Can we go to the pub now _he’s_ gone?” Mycroft could tell from the tone of voice that it was Donovan that had spoken and what’s worse was that Greg must have nodded because the sound of drinks being downed and set down onto the table soon filled the hallway. With a slight shake of his head, Mycroft let himself out, frowned at the rain and started the short walk back home.

* * *

 

Mycroft dug his key out from his pocket and tried to unlock the door as quietly as he could. The last thing he needed was Sherlock asking him a thousand questions, not when Anderson’s words were still echoing around his head. Wiping a tear off of his cheek, Mycroft scolded himself. Mycroft Holmes did not cry no matter the circumstances. After deciding the coast was clear he went up to his bedroom to read something. He didn’t care what he just wanted to stop the memories from his terrible evening from playing on repeat in his head.

Mycroft got to his room without any trouble it would appear that Sherlock was in his room across the hallway playing his violin. At the sound of a familiar melody, he breathed a sigh of relief and thought back to when his mother had decided it would be a good idea for him to learn the oboe and was soon proven wrong. His lips threatened to spread into the smile at the memory of his teacher losing all patience and storming out their lesson. It wasn’t that Mycroft wasn’t a good musician it just happened that he couldn’t get the hang of the fingering even if his life depended on it.

With the sound of his phone vibrating on the bed beside him Mycroft sighed and looked at the screen already knowing who it was. His suspicious were confirmed when he saw his boyfriends number on the screen. Without a second thought Mycroft ended the call and picked up an old book without glancing at the cover and began to read. He was aware that he had no idea of what was happening in the book but all that mattered was that he wasn’t thinking about Gregory.

This time Mycroft was woken by a sharp knock on the door. He rolled his eyes and set his book down. He really didn’t want to speak to Sherlock now. The door opened and a boy that was rake thin and whose hair was a shock of dark curls walked in.  “Mycroft? Why are you home now? You said you wouldn’t be back until I’d gone to bed.”

Mycroft sighed, there was no point in telling Sherlock to go now; he wouldn’t listen anyway. “I know I did but Gregory had a change of plans and I had to leave early.”

Sherlock climbed up onto Mycroft’s bed and sat down at the foot of it. “I know you’re lying.” He said carefully. If he wasn’t mistaken, looking at his brother’s eyes Sherlock could see he’d been crying. Mycroft never cried, not even cried when Grandma had died. He wanted ask Mycroft more but he didn’t know what else to say. “You’ve been drinking alcohol.” Was all he could manage.

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Mycroft sighed. “Yes I have. It’s not a crime, Sherlock. Nothing for you to solve anytime soon, I’m afraid.”

“It did go badly, didn’t it?” Sherlock tilted his head to the side and stared at his brother curiously. “Judging by the way you’re sad and not angry. It wasn’t Gregory that upset you it was his friends.”

Mycroft hated the way that his brother could do that. He knew he could have done exactly the same if Sherlock was in the same position but he still hated being so easy to read. “Yes, you’re right. Will you leave me alone now please? I have homework.”

“Lying again, Mycroft. I should tell mother.” Sherlock shook his head and clamoured down from his brother’s bed. He took the book from his brother’s side, tucked it under his arm and walked to the door. “This might be useful there’s this case in the newspaper about this boy who drowned but I don’t think he was drowned. I just need to work some things out about and then I can start to form a theory.”

Mycroft smiled at his brother’s excitement and picked up his phone, wondering whether to turn it on again before setting it down beside him. “Have fun, brother dear. Goodnight.” Mycroft rolled over so his back was to the door and waited for it to close. When it did Mycroft sighed quietly and picked up another book and decided that caring was definitely not an advantage.

With a sigh Mycroft picked up his phone for the fourteenth time that evening and ended the incoming call from Greg before deleting the message that always followed without opening. He was finding it difficult enough to get sleep as it was without being harassed by his contrite boyfriend. Although aware that Greg was calling to apologise Mycroft didn’t think he was ready to accept the olive branch without snapping it.  After making the decision to turn his phone off once and for all Mycroft set it down on his bedside table and tried to settle back down to sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning Mycroft woke up to the sound of Sherlock running up and down the stairs. He smiled faintly and rolled over to check his alarm clock. The running up and down the stairs was probably a scientific matter that Mycroft wouldn’t understand. It was only when he thought of Sherlock and his science that he remembered Anderson’s words the night before. Carefully, Mycroft picked up his phone and switched it back on. He decided to shower and eat something before reading the messages; he didn’t feel ready to go through them yet.

After washing and dressing Mycroft went downstairs, he was greeted by the breakfast Mrs. Hudson had laid out on the table for him.  Mycroft smiled, Sherlock must have said something to her about Gregory because everything laid out in front of him was a personal favourite. There were croissants, Danish pastries and the confiture that the Holmes parents only brought back with them if they’d visited France.  Making a mental note to thank Mrs. Hudson later, Mycroft began to eat with the sound of Sherlock running up and down the stairs still echoing around the house.

Once Mycroft had eaten most of the food Mrs. Hudson had put out for him he decided he was ready to face Greg’s drunken apologies. He walked down the hallway to find Sherlock perched on the bottom step of the stairs breathing heavily, he was writing in one of his many notebooks. Mycroft noted it was the blue one- a biological study, then. “Have you come to a conclusion yet?” He asked stepping carefully around Sherlock.

The shock of curls shook vigorously as the boy nodded. “Yes, I have found that once I reach a certain point in running my muscles begin to ache. I think it’s something to do with breathing but I’m not sure.” Sherlock didn’t look up from his notebook as he wrote furiously as if he’d forget the information any second.

“Respiration.” Said Mycroft, stopping on the stairs and looking down at his brother.

Sherlock looked up from his note book curiously. He was slightly annoyed that he’d never heard those words before. “Respir- respiration? What’s that?”

Mycroft chuckled quietly, he hoped Sherlock hadn’t heard him laugh; he’d probably have a tantrum if he did. “It’s a biological process. You should look anaerobic respiration in one of your books it might help your theory.”

“How do you spell that?” Sherlock asked carefully, his pen poised above a clean page in his note book.

“A-N-A-E-R-O-B-I-C  R-E-S-P-I-R-A-T-I-O-N.” Mycroft recited before climbing back up to his room. “Don’t tire yourself out too much, little brother.” He called as he walked into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Mycroft was convinced that Sherlock had shouted something in response but he didn’t quite hear him.

Mycroft picked up his phone from his bed and peered at the screen. He was only partially surprised when the envelope on the screen had the number fifty six underneath it. He sighed heavily and sank down onto to his bed to read the messages, bracing himself for the poor spelling and punctuation.

 **Myc. I’m sorry about Anderson you can come down to the pub if you want. –GLx**    Mycroft rolled his eyes of course he couldn’t it was illegal and Gregory had said himself that he couldn’t risk getting arrested.

 **I really miss you. Sorry. –GLx** Mycroft checked the time on the message, 10:01 that would explain why Gregory was still quite coherent.

 **Just had fight with Andrew son nearly got kicked out of pub. –GLx** Mycroft smiled in spite of himself at least Gregory might have finally seen the light anddecide to make new friends.

  **Has been a shit birthday wish you where with me sorry.–GLxxx** The smile quickly disappeared from Mycroft’s face, he deleted the rest of Greg’s messages, he decided that he really didn’t want to read anymore of them.

Mycroft walked over to his wardrobe to take out his coat and pulled it on. It wasn’t fair to leave Gregory like that. Mycroft didn’t much care for anything as sentimental as a birthday but they did have their positive points (Read: Cake) but Greg did and he certainly deserved better than what had happened that evening.

As Mycroft walked past Sherlock’s room he smiled as he saw Sherlock sprawled across the floor with the ‘Science of the Respiratory System’ open in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration.  He was going to call out to him but decided against it, it would no doubt end in him being given an over-excited science lesson by his little brother.

As he got to the front door Mycroft picked up his umbrella, called out to Mrs. Hudson who was doing the washing up and went on the small walk to Gregory’s house for the second time in two days. Thankfully the rain that had been falling heavily last night had stopped and now it was just drizzling.  Mycroft opened his umbrella and ducked underneath it. His mind immediately cast back to the first time he’d Greg had kissed him. They’d walked back from the park together after a picnic that had been rained off. Mycroft hadn’t expected that Greg would kiss him it had just sort of happened. They’d been sharing his umbrella when Greg leaned over and kissed him, it was a chaste kiss that only lasted for a matter of seconds and he’d said goodbye and dashed off into his house afterwards but Mycroft had been rooted to the spot, unable to move for a few minutes. One hand holding the umbrella above his head and the other tracing a pattern across his lips where Greg had kissed him.

Mycroft was brought back into reality by the familiar sight of Greg’s house and strode up the pathway and knocked on the door. It was answered by Gregory’s mother, who smiled nervously at him, she was obviously aware of what had happened the night before. “Oh, hello Mycroft, come in, Greg’s still sleeping. He was quite drunk last night. I don’t think things went very well at the pub. He kept saying about having a fight with Anderson but I don’t know. I doubt that he would have done. You can go up and wake him if you want to. I was just going to do it. Do you want tea? I’ve just boiled the kettle. Oh, and give him this. I’m sure he’ll need it judging by the state he was in.” She went to the kitchen and returned holding some aspirin and a glass water.

Mycroft smiled at Gregory’s mother as he stepped into the house and took off his coat and shoes.”Yes tea will be good, Mrs. Lestrade. “ He took the glass and tablets from her carefully.

“How many more times ,Mycroft it’s Jean!” Greg’s mother went back along into the kitchen shaking her head. Mycroft smiled and climbed the stairs up to Greg’s room. He knocked quietly on the door and waited until he heard faint grumbling before going inside.

“Good morning, Gregory.” Mycroft frowned at how dark Greg’s room was and went over to open the curtains, which was met by a hiss from Greg. “Oh yes, your head must ache. I’m sorry.” Mycroft made no attempt to close them again and went and sat on the side of his boyfriend’s bed.

Greg looked up at him blearily and his voice croaked as he spoke. Mycroft couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Greg look so pale. “Myc, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have let you leave. It wasn’t fair.”Greg tried to sit up clutching at his forehead as he did so.

Mycroft handed him the tablets and the water and stayed quiet until he’d swallowed them. “It’s alright, Gregory. Some of the blame lies with me as well. I shouldn’t have been so easily riled by Anderson’s words.” 

Greg smiled faintly and took Mycroft’s hand. “So I’m forgiven?”

Mycroft laughed quietly, mindful of how Greg winced whenever the bed creaked beneath their combined weight. “Yes you are, for everything, including using up all of my phone’s memory with your messages and calls. “

Greg breathed a sigh of relief and leaned forward to kiss Mycroft, looking crestfallen when Mycroft ducked away from him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you so soon.  I thought you’d forgiven me.”

Mycroft laughed and took Greg’s other hand. “I have forgiven you but I’m afraid that your breath isn’t at its sweetest at this moment in time. If you go and brush your teeth I will be happy to reconsider.”

Greg laughed and got up of bed grabbing some clothes and walking to the bathroom. “As you wish, Mr. Holmes. You might as well go downstairs and wait for me. I won’t be too long.”

With that Greg disappeared into the bathroom and Mycroft got up and looked around his room. He wasn’t being nosy, he was just curious. The way Greg’s room was a mixture of immaculate order and chaos had always intrigued him. Greg’s football trophies, for example were always dusted and polished but Greg’s wardrobe had clothes hanging out of it and surrounding it which was a complete contrast to his own. Hearing the shower switch off Mycroft decided he’d better go downstairs to wait, he didn’t want Gregory to know that he’d just spent fifteen minutes happily analysing his possessions.

He went into the kitchen to find Greg’s mother sitting at the table, reading a gossip magazine. She looked up as Mycroft walked in to the room and took the empty water glass from him. “How’s Greg? Not too bad I hope?”

Mycroft shook his head and sat down at the table picking up the mug of tea that had been made for him. “He’s alright. He’s got all the usual symptoms of a hangover, if I’m honest.”

Mrs. Lestrade closed her magazine and sat quietly for a while as if she was listening out for something before relaxing and turning to Mycroft. “What exactly happened last night? I was upstairs reading my book and the next thing I knew I heard you leaving.”

Ah. That explained it. Greg’s mother wanted to hear what happened from Mycroft before she asked her son. Mycroft admired her diplomacy. “I don’t fully understand what happened after I left but I can tell you why I did leave. Gregory’s friends where rather rude and so I decided it would be best for Gregory if left. I was intruding anyway. After that, Gregory, Anderson and Donovan went to the pub and from what I understand Gregory had a fight with Anderson which nearly got him removed from it. I don’t know any more detail.”

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs Mrs. Lestrade spoke even quieter. “That would explain what Greg was going on about last night. I’m sure he’ll make up with Phillip when he gets back to school.”

Mycroft was about to point out his displeasure at the idea of Greg being friends with Anderson again when Greg walked into the room smiling at both his mother and Mycroft. He looked down inquisitively at the two of them before sinking into a seat next to Mycroft. “What were you both talking about?”

“Nothing in particular.” Said Greg’s mother as she went over to a frying pan she had resting on the stove and put some pancakes onto a plate for Greg. He took them gratefully and spread them liberally with Nutella, claiming it was only to get his blood sugar back up.

“When do you go back to school, Mycroft?” Greg’s mother had gone back to her magazine but she looked up to ask the question.

Mycroft wondered why everyone was asking him this question of late although he could tell that Mrs. Lestrade asked the question with better intentions than Anderson had done the previous evening. “Tomorrow morning. This is my last day at home.”

Greg’s mother sighed and shook her head. “That’s a shame. You are coming back home for half term though, aren’t you?”

Mycroft smiled fondly over at Gregory whose chin was covered in patches of nutella. “Yes of course. I couldn’t be away from Gregory for that long. Speaking of which do you mind if I spend the day with him?  I want to make the most of the time I have left at home.”

Greg gave Mycroft a nutella-toothed smile before he looked over at his mother.

“Yes of course you can.” She got up from the table taking Greg’s plate to the sink. “As long as you both don’t get blinding drunk.”

Mycroft stood up from the table and took Greg’s hand. “That won’t be a problem, Mrs. Lestr- Jean.”

“Good. I’ll see you later boys.” Greg’s mother smiled at Mycroft’s correction and started the washing up.

Mycroft pulled Greg into the hallway and handed him his coat. “Where are going to go?” Asked Greg, as he pulled on his coat.

“For a walk.” Mycroft picked up his umbrella and opened the front door. The rain was heavier now and Mycroft offered the other half of his umbrella to Greg who ducked underneath it.

“Mycroft?” Greg laced his fingers in Mycroft’s and turned to face him.

“Yes, Gregory?”

“Can I have my kiss now, please?” Mycroft rolled his eyes and leaned forward to press his lips to Greg’s. He huddled closer to him, making sure that they were both sheltered from the rain. Greg’s lips where warm and soft and Mycroft could faintly taste nutella.

Greg eventually broke the kiss when he saw the upstairs curtains twitch and made a mental note to ask his mother about that later. He smiled across at Mycroft and squeezed his hand. “Shall we walk?”

 


End file.
